My fears are realized when he chooses the later.
“Very well. Very fucking well. Which of these sluts do you suggest?”
I cringe, feeling the smile stretching across that bastard of an advisor’s lips. With horror, I watch out of the corner of my eye as he raises his hand and points straight at me.
“Our intel showed that these particular Bullfrogs love women of the… ahem… curvy disposition. This one here? She’s a perfect specimen.”
Peter sighs. I keep my eyes down as he turns and looks at me.
“Dammit, I enjoyed having that one working for me. Nothing calms me quite like the sight of a perfect bottom.” He snaps his fingers. “Come here, slave.”
I can do nothing but obey.
Reluctantly, I step forward, clutching the duster as if there’s the vain possibility that it will offer me some kind of protection. Peter looks me up and down as I approach, his eyes lingering on my body.
“Yes,” he nods. “She’s perfect – one of my favorites, too. Take her and just twenty others. I won’t lose my entire staff if the Bullfrogs decide they have taste for many such beauties.”
He shakes his head.
“Tsk. What a shame. The prices that species will offer are not enough to warrant losing such a beauty.”
The first advisor, emboldened by these events, rubs his throat to get Peter’s attention.
“Yes?” Peter snaps at him irritably.
“Sir, there’s another matter. Three Aurelians have entered sub-space.”
Hope flares up in my heart. If there are Aurelians coming down to the city of Lipa, Peter might be too afraid to host this planned slave auction.
Even better, these Aurelians might come and save me altogether. It’s only a faint hope, but anything is better than thinking that my future will be spent serving a huge, warty Bullfrog for the rest of my life.
A hint of fear flashes through Peter’s face – so quick that it’s barely perceptible, but I notice it. The man is strong, and it takes a lot to get him off balance. It gives me hope when I witness it.
“Army?” Peter demands.
The advisor gives a small smile, and my hopes crumble. He should be scared, not happy.
“That’s the thing, sir. I believe they went Rogue. They’re not communicating on their regular scanner, but instead using sub-communications that can’t be traced by the Aurelian Empire. They’re offering a stripped Reaver – including the Orb that powers it – for a small fortune. Good negotiators. Permission to take possession?”
Rogue Aurelians.
My hopes disappear. Rogue Aurelians eschew their Empire’s covenant against slavery. They leave their Empire for one reason and one reason only – to own women.
Peter grins. The slave auction and my potential fate as the toy of a Bullfrog has left his mind. Now, he’s suddenly focused on this new business potential.
“Immediately! And see if you can get them to spend some of that cash back with us – they’ll drive the prices up at the slave auction if they bid – to the point where I’ll no longer care if I lose any of these wenches – or all of them.” He snorts. “Aurelians have deep pockets and deep desires, especially for virgin stock. You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
It takes me a second to realize the question is asked of me.
My cheeks flush red as I notice Peter staring at me, and I nod shamefully, humiliation filling me.
Peter purchased me when I was just eighteen, and in the two years since no man has dared go near his property. Sure, some of the guards like to whistle or click their tongues to show they want me – but there isn’t a man alive who’d risk getting his balls chopped off to have a go at my prized virginity.
Peter himself views his slaves as walking, living art – and although the mobster has many flaws, he doesn’t rape us.
Peter peruses me. I realize now he’s looking at me to determine the price he’ll get for me; no longer caring about my role in his manor.
I suppose he’s got plenty of slaves to dust his furniture.
“Good,” Peter eventually nods. “Now, back to work.”
With my fate sealed, he walks away – and I’m left standing here.
For three years, I’ve been owned by Peter Paradooli. To his credit, he’s never once touched me, or allowed anyone else to. Yes, I’m owned – but out here in the outskirts of the universe, there’s some protection in being owned by such a powerful man.
But how long will I continue to be Peter Paradooli’s property? And what price will he need to let me go?
Peter turns and stalks away, while the advisor who suggested this slave auction waits awkwardly behind, glaring at the slaves in the main hall. All of those poor souls try their best to appear smaller than they actually are.
They can still avoid this fate – but not me. Now, whatever happens, I will be sold to the highest bidder in a spectacle designed to showcase Peter’s wealth to his new business partners.
Suddenly, without warning, I throw up on the marble floor.
The advisor who decided my fate opens his eyes wide in disgust.
“Gods be damned!” He shakes his head. “Clean that up, wench! And if it happens again… Well, you won’t make it to the slave auction.”
3
Conan
My knuckles are white on the triggers. I scan the empty space, searching for any movement among the billions of twinkling stars – almost twitching in anticipation.
There!
Something moves, and I fire before I can even register what it is...
I blast an asteroid into nothingness.
Evander yells from the pilot’s cockpit: “Easy, Conan. That could have been a friendly ship! We’re entering sub-space now – we need to keep our cool.”
He could have telepathed those words to me – but he knew I needed to hear them out loud. Evander’s voice calms me… a little.
He’s right, though. I could have killed an innocent with the fiery swathe of my Orb-Beam. We’re all running on adrenaline. None of us have
